And a haiku:
Wild in the distance
Fields wide open and grasses
green and young like love
Perhaps we gravitate towards each other's beauty and sometimes mistake it as love. Beauty like a painting hung on the wall, cherished and admired until a thin layer of dust covers the frame and ever so slightly mars the glass, until the daily sight of it is the norm and the ordinary. Until the only time we truly notice it once again is when it is no longer there.
Posted by sniffles at November 05, 2001 10:55 PM